Some Dragons Sleep Forever
by Basium1
Summary: Harry always thought he was special... at least until a certain letter came/A prompt from someone on Dark Lord Potter—DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER


" **ok, write a oneshot about Harry reading his first Hogwarts letter but then Vernon destroys it. So Harry has read it and therefore there are no more owls or Hagrid coming. Does he eventually make it to Hogwarts? and if so, how?"**

NuScorpii requested this for his birthday on IRC.

[***]

"Get the mail, Dudley."

"Make Harry get it." Normally, Harry would have said something, anything to at least make it inconvenient for them on the off chance they would think twice before sending him off next time.

But that had never worked before.

He shrugged and stood, knowing full well that his toast would be gone as soon as he left the room—"Dudley, don't eat that!" Aunt Petunia shrilled as the kitchen door closed behind Harry.

' _Bill… bill… card from Aunt Marge… letter for—'_ Harry did a double take at the name.

"Me…?" He mumbled in his shock as he placed the other letters on a nearby end table. He gulped and opened the thick envelope in his hands with shaking fingers.

Harry's stomach dropped as he read the letter.

There was no way that this was real… it must have been a joke from Dudley—but he wasn't smart enough to even pronounce some of the words that had been used. Aunt Petunia's handwriting was different and Uncle Vernon was quite no-nonsense, _especially_ when it came to him.

It left one possibility and it would explain the strange things that happened when he was upset—the time with the school roof, that time when he'd turned his teacher's hair blue, and the very last time when he'd spoken to that snake…

So that meant—"Boy, hurry up!" He steeled himself as he returned picked up the letters with a careless hand. He would write them back… it couldn't be a joke, he'd never felt more sure of anything in his life.

The idea of it just felt right.

"Boy," The tone his uncle used was the last warning and Harry rushed to the kitchen. He regretted bringing the letter—his first letter—to the kitchen as soon as Dudley snatched it out of his hand.

"Dad, he opened one of the letters!" Dudley held the letter out for Uncle Vernon to see.

"It's mine!" Harry yelped when Uncle Vernon's beady eyes snapped to him. "It had my name on it!"

Aunt Petunia released a shrill scream when she looked at it. Uncle Vernon snatched it up and read through it. It took Harry a moment to realize that he'd stopped breathing. Uncle Vernon looked at him after a moment of reading, his face had turned a hideous purple as his eyes became impossibly narrow, "Boy, set up the fireplace."

It did little to deter him.

"It's mine…" His uncle stood, looming up over him in a way that made him trail off in fear.

"I will not say it again: set up the fireplace!" Harry's eyes began to prickle as he nodded and ran off to do as he was bade. "No worries, Pet, I'll take care of this…"

[***]

Harry couldn't help but watch as his ticket to freedom was burned before his very eyes. It started slowly, "Don't you dare look away, boy!" Uncle Vernon boomed.

There would be more, he thought desperately, there would be more.

The lump in his throat grew larger and larger as something struggled to escape his churning stomach. He took a deep breath as he began to distance himself from the way that his heart throbbed in its pain. Dudley interrupted his concentration.

"Dad, look, Potter's crying!"

He continued to stare, just as Uncle Vernon had bade. He took a deep breath and began to urge the tears away. Of course he could only concentrate on stopping one thing at a time. Just as his tears stopped the lump in his throat eased itself by releasing a whimper.

' _Magic is real…'_

He repeated it mentally again and again, his sorrow slowly fading. It wouldn't quite go away, even as the fire went out—but a fire within him had grown.

He spoke of the brightest situation.

"There will be more, you can't stop me from leaving," He gulped back his fear as Uncle Vernon chuckled, "The letter said I'm magic, they'll know." Dudley began to guffaw.

Uncle Vernon just smiled fondly at his son, "Clean up the fireplace," For a moment Harry did not move. "Boy, don't make me say it again." With hope in his small body and a smile on his face, he got to work.

' _Magic is real…'_

[***]

"Hello," Harry said as politely as he could to the postman for the third time that week, "Are there any letters from Hogwarts? _It's a magic school_." The last bit was whispered.

Harry wondered for the first time since speaking with the man if he should have told him about the school and everything the letter had entailed—the postman pinched the bridge of his nose, "Listen, kid, there's no such thing as magic, everyone knows that."

"But the letter said—" Harry started up

"Kids today," The postman grumbled as though Harry wasn't even there, he turned his eyes on him and sneered—"Stop wasting my time—normal people take the hint the first time they're told the truth… what's next? You'll tell me that Santa Claus is real?"

Harry flinched and felt the fire of hope that he'd been gradually building up wither and die.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, sir."

The postman walked away without another word.

' _There is no such thing as magic,'_ it hadn't occurred to him in all this time that maybe, just maybe… the Dursleys _did_ know better, ' _I'm just a freak.'_

It began to rain, which made the perfect cover for the tears rushing down his face.

Harry walked inside and worked his way into his cupboard, which seemed to have shrunken over the course of the summer.

He'd be at Stonewall for his secondary school tomorrow, hopefully he'd sleep well.

[***]

"Oh my Diddy looks so smart," Aunt Petunia squealed in delight, "Hurry, Vernon, take a picture with him."

Harry stared at the happy family in the living room for a moment before he set off to his new school.

Where Dudley was surrounded by his family and wore bright colors, Harry was clad in gray and was as alone as ever. At least Dudley's new school was a boarding school, so he wouldn't be there to stop him from making friends.

Harry gulped when a familiar gang stood at the entrance of his new school, letting him know that things still wouldn't change.

"Potter," Malcolm called cheerfully as Dennis mashed his fist into his palm, "What're you doing here?" Harry ignored them and walked up to the school. If he was quick he could make it to his homeroom, if he ignored them he'd make friends.

They were following him.

"C'mon, Potter!" Dennis said from behind him, "We want to show you something!" they grabbed his arms and shoved him into the nearby boys loo.

" _I heard they shove people's heads down the toilets the first day at Smeltings,"_ He remembered Dudley saying, " _Want to practice?"_

Harry had made a snarky comment at the time, but now—with two larger boys on either side of him—he was honestly too afraid to do anything of the sort.

"Got something to say now, Potter?" Harry stared into the toilet bowl as they brought his face close to it, "No? Let's have some fun."

Things had changed, only for the worst.

[***]

He hadn't made a single friend by the time the first week had ended—he had expected as much. Aunt Petunia had also set a curfew for him. He wasn't allowed in or around the house before eight O'clock—at night. So he did as he had taken to doing for the last week, he went to the park to do his homework.

He set himself down on a bench, preparing for another session of studying.

"Hello, young man." With a speeding heart, Harry looked into twinkling blue eyes and frowned, "Would you kindly trouble yourself to play chess with me?" His heart calmed after staring as he subconsciously nodded, but didn't dare voice the question that sounded through his mind.

' _How did he manage to sneak up on me?'_

"I would like that very much, sir." Harry lied. He was too lonely to say no. When was the last time he had spoken to someone since the night Aunt Petunia had set that curfew? The teachers ignored him, his classmates spurned him, and his relatives left his dinner cold on the counter after they went to bed.

It was odd to hear his own voice after a full week of silence.

"Ah, yes, my chess set is that way." Harry followed him to a nearby picnic table, the only one he'd ever seen here.

"What's your name?" Harry gulped as he realized his rudeness, hastily adding a quick: "Sir," at the end of it.

"I have a long and quite embarrassing one, my friend. Would you humor me and tell me yours first?" Harry sat down before the black set.

"My name is Harry," he said after a pause. "I don't really know how to play chess." He realized belatedly, it took him another moment to realize that he'd said that out loud.

"It's quite alright, my boy," the old man said with a warm smile, "I will teach you. My full name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you." He didn't seem like an Albus, but name was familiar to him and even as the old man set about explaining the pieces for him Harry struggled to place it. He'd call him Dumbledore.

"Now, here is where the magic h—" Harry's body tensed at that word and he was lost for a moment. He saw his lips moving but the world around him went silent as he remembered the sound of the crackling fire from that day.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry interrupted as he regained his bearings. "Everyone knows there's no such thing."

The twinkle in the old man's eyes disappeared when Harry stood.

"Please sit down." Harry began to walk away as soon the words fell from his lips, "Harry, haven't you ever wondered about the strange things that have happened in your life? Surely you've had some strange things happen around you?"

Harry paused and turned around, struggling through the whirlwind within him; something was struggling to lash out, to be free. He shook his head and pushed it back. Harry forced a smile onto his face and answered.

"Sorry, sir. I'm just me." Dumbledore looked shocked, but Harry turned away to head to a different spot in the park, somewhere far away from him.

"If you could leave this place, would you?" Harry whirled around automatically. In the past he would have said yes, he would have smiled—but he knew better now.

"No, sir. My relatives are all I have." It was for the best in a twisted way, if he studied hard he could be somebody.

"Please, Mister Potter… tell me this: Do you believe in magic?" Harry had believed only once, he knew better now.

"There is no such thing as magic." Harry bolted, the idea that this old man might be a pedophile hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"The worst sort of muggles!" A voice shouted from behind him.

It occurred to him much later that he had never given Dumbledore his surname.

[***]

 **STARTED—MAY 3, 2016**

 **COMPLETED—MAY 19, 2016**

Beta'd by Halt and Zeelthor—NuScorpii helped in the end

NuScorpii, Happy Birthday, hopefully you'll give me something better next year like you promised to do this year.


End file.
